


Parallels 2 bonus scene #3

by spoffyumi



Series: Parallels & Parallels 2 bonus scenes [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 09:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7796284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoffyumi/pseuds/spoffyumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place after chapter 19 of Parallels 2.</p><p>The Bucky from "Gimme Shelter" arrives in the coffeehouse universe.</p><p>**This is not a new work, it was previously posted on my Tumblr.**</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallels 2 bonus scene #3

One minute Bucky was completing his rounds at the shelter, closing up for the night, the next he found himself in a strange bathroom reeling back against the towel rack.  Good thing the toilet seat was up, because he fell to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach into the bowl. 

The room was spinning, and he threw up twice more before it finally seemed to stop.  He stared at the bathroom tiles on the floor, at the black marble sink and pewter fixtures.  He had just been in the dog kennel, hadn't he?  Yet he didn't smell the animals on him.  He went to sniff his sleeve and saw he was wearing the gray cashmere sweater Steve liked so much.  It didn't smell like dogs at all – obviously, he would never wear it to work, but he had no memory of changing.  It was like he had lost a few hours, and somehow he'd gone from work to some party, only he wasn't aware of any party he might have gone to.

He could hear voices outside the closed bathroom door.  It _sounded_ like a party. 

Another wave of nausea hit him and he retched again.  When it passed, he stood up and rinsed his mouth out with some water from the sink faucet.  His appearance in the mirror, when he stood up, startled him.  His hair – it was shorter.  Not that much shorter, but enough that he could tell.  And it was hanging loose around his face.  And he had clearly shaved.  He touched the skin on his jaw.  Shaving was something he did maybe once a week, and he certainly hadn't done it in the past couple of days. 

A thought came into his mind: alien abduction.  He had lost time.  But that didn't explain how he had gotten from the animal shelter to here.  Like someone else had been walking around in his body.

He heard Steve's distinct laugh from the voices outside the door, and relief washed over him.  Steve would know what was going on.  Surely Steve wouldn't want to stay at this party if Bucky was throwing up, anyway.  Steve would take him home, and everything would be okay.

Outside the bathroom didn't look familiar either, but when he walked into the upscale-looking apartment – and it was an apartment, and not a house, he found a number of familiar faces.  After a moment, he took that back.  Familiar-ish.  Everything felt slanted and wrong.  There was Steve - dressed in a blue button-down shirt that Bucky recognized, only he seemed oddly _young_.  His gaze met Bucky's the moment Bucky entered the room, and he offered Bucky a shy smile.  Bucky couldn't remember ever seeing such an expression cross Steve's face before.  He glanced over at Natasha, who was laughing with Clint near the kitchen island.  First off, her hair was curly.  Second, she was most definitely _flirting_ with Clint.

But Natasha was dating Bruce.  And Clint was seeing Kate. 

Bucky swung his head in the other direction, where he'd seen the back of Pepper's blonde head.  She was sitting on a love seat with some black guy who looked super uncomfortable.  Where was Tony? 

The floor seemed to shift beneath his feet, and then Steve was there, holding him up.  "Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"I don't feel good," Bucky croaked, just before his stomach heaved, and its contents ended up on the floor.  He heard someone make a sound of surprise.  "I'm sorry," he said to Steve's shoulder. 

"Don't worry about it," said Natasha, who was suddenly there with a dishcloth to cover the puddle on the hardwood floor.  "Maybe you should sit down."

He was sagging against Steve's side, with Steve's hand digging under his armpit to keep him standing.  They moved toward the couch.  In a whisper he said, "I don't... know where I am?"

"We're at Nat's place," Steve said.  "Remember?"

Another glance around, even through his blurry eyes, did not match what he knew.  "This isn't Nat's house," he said.

"Um," said Steve.

Bucky struggled to stand up on his own, even though he wanted nothing more than for Steve to hold him.  Everyone had gone quiet, and Bucky could feel them staring at him.  "Can we go home?" He whispered.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital," said Steve. 

"I'm just not feeling well," Bucky said, wanting nothing more than to cry.  "Please, let's just go home."

"Are you having memory problems again?" Steve asked quietly.

"What do you mean, again?" Bucky wasn't going to be able to hold it in much longer.  He could feel himself shaking.  He maneuvered himself to grip Steve's hand.  "Please, Steve.  I just need to lie down, I think."

"I'll take you home," Steve said, "But I'm gonna talk to Sam.  I think he'll want you to go to the hospital, too."

Sam?  Sam wasn't a doctor.  Why would Steve need to talk to Sam?  Steve was his husband. 

Bucky wasn't sure exactly why he needed to reaffirm that fact, but he looked down at the hand he was holding.  His left, Steve's right.  Steve should have had a ring on his finger, and he didn't.  And Bucky was gripping Steve's hand so tightly his knuckles were white.  He hadn't been able to do that in years.  He held up his own hand.  No ring there, either.  Not even a tan line where the ring would have been.

He felt any sort of control he'd had over his emotions start to crumble.

"Uh, okay.  Don't cry, okay?  We'll go home.  I'll take you home."

Pressing his face into Steve's shoulder, he listened to Steve mumble some vague good-byes that sounded more awkward than they should have been.  Why wasn't Nat more worried about him?  She felt like a stranger, and so did Clint.  It only made him cling tighter to Steve, who at least acted like he knew Bucky.

They went down some stairs, and Steve led Bucky out to an old Volkswagen Beetle.  Bucky stared at it while Steve opened the door.  He wanted to ask Steve where his truck was, but now he was beginning to doubt himself.  They weren't in Springfield, North Carolina, that was for sure.  Too many big buildings.  The air even smelled different. 

Bucky got into the car, despite his brain screaming that something was very, very wrong.

He watched the world pass outside the windows.  He didn't recognize any of it.  There was one sign that looked sort of familiar, until they got closer and the circular logo didn't say Starbucks.  It said, inexplicably, "Starkbucks."  At that point he pushed his head into the headrest and willed himself not to throw up in Steve's strange car. 

The vomit managed to stay down until they stopped, and then he threw the door open and threw up on the pavement.

"Jesus." Steve placed a hand on his back as he spit out strings of bile.  "Good thing I _didn't_ drive you home."

Sure enough, when he looked up, he saw that they were outside the Urgent Care entrance of a hospital – not a hospital Buck recognized.  He reached for Steve, took his hand.  "Yeah," he agreed hoarsely.  "This is probably better."

Once they got inside and checked in, Steve handed Bucky the clipboard with the intake form on it to fill out.  He set it aside and rested his head on Steve's shoulder.  Steve's hand was still in his clammy grip.

"Maybe you should call your mom?" Steve asked.

That made Bucky open his eyes.  _His mom?_   They hadn't even invited his mother to their wedding.  And he was on Steve's health insurance now, so he didn't need to contact her.  What, was his stepfather going to drive her down here?  Wherever here was?

"No," he said, and closed his eyes again. 

He thought he was starting to feel better until the doctor that came over to examine him was Bruce.  Bucky could only stare.  He could feel his whole body shaking as Bruce checked his eyes and asked him some questions that he mostly answered right.  "I think another CT scan is in order," Bruce said.  So he undressed and put on the hospital gown and a bracelet and was wheeled in a while later. 

He was placed in a room until the scan was completed.  Steve kept glancing at the door and chewing his lip, and Bucky couldn't understand why Steve looked so unsure.

Then his mother rushed in.

Bucky felt the blood drain from his face – he'd always thought it was just an expression, but no, he was cold all over.  The room seemed to warp and close in on him as he watched his mother walk towards him, no cane, no scars, nothing. 

"Bucky, honey, are you alright?" She asked.

He could only stare.  "Who are you?" He asked her.

She looked at Steve.  "I'm your mother."

A scream built up inside him.  He gripped Steve's hand even tighter, pulling Steve close so his "mother" wouldn't come any nearer.  "Steve, I don't know what's happening," he whispered, the only other sound he thought he could make other than screaming.  "Please make her leave."

"But, Bucky, it's your mom."

"Make her leave!"  That time he did scream, and then he squeezed his eyes shut and just focused on breathing, the sound of his breath, moving in and out of his lungs. 

He heard movement and talking and all of it made the panic rise up inside him because none of this made sense.  Why didn't it help to hold Steve's hand?  Why didn't any of this make sense? 

It was almost a relief when a pair of nurses, one male and one female came in.  "We're just going to give you a little something to help you calm down," one of them said, and then they were wiping his arm with sharp-smelling antiseptic.  The pinch of the needle barely hurt.

Almost immediately, his eyelids felt too heavy.  Maybe this would all turn out to be a dream.  He hoped so.

He floated for a time, a blank space of sleep, and then he was rudely awakened by something crashing into him.  No, he realized as he opened his eyes and saw the bathroom – the familiar bathroom in his own house – he had been the one crashing.  And now Steve was running in.  "Bucky?  What happened?"

His head was lifted and cradled in Steve's arms.  He looked up.  This looked like his Steve. 

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, brushing Bucky's hair out of his face.

His knee throbbed from where it must have hit the bathtub, and his head was pounding, but he didn't feel like throwing up, so there was that.  "I think so," he said finally.

He struggled to sit up, and Steve helped.  With a little laugh, Steve got his arms underneath Bucky and lifted him up.  "Are you sure you're okay?  I mean... you were feeling kind of sick last night before, you know..." Steve looked at him.

"I think I was just sleepwalking.  I had the weirdest dream just now," Bucky said, then stopped.  "Before I know what?"

Steve grinned.  "You know."

Bucky just looked at him.  He hadn't been sleepwalking, obviously.  He had completely blacked out.  He had no idea how he'd gotten from the shelter to home and in the bathroom.  What had he done while he was blacked out? 

Smile fading, Steve said, "You don't remember?"

"I'm sorry," said Bucky.  "I remember being at work, and then..."

Steve carried Bucky into the bedroom and laid him down on the bed gently.  "Maybe I should take you to the hospital."

It was so similar to his dream that he almost started crying again.  His fingers clung to Steve's neck and wouldn't let him go.  "No, please, just stay here with me."

"Are you sure?"  Steve kissed him, nudging into bed beside him.  "Maybe it's something from your accident.  Some weird memory loss thing."

Bucky thought about that.  Already he was having a hard time believing it had been real.  Steve was here, and this was his Steve.  He laced his fingers through Steve's hand, making sure the ring was there.  It was.  He had his own ring as well.  "Maybe," he conceded.  "But I'd rather be here with you."

"Okay," Steve whispered.  He turned to shut off the lamp.

"Can we leave it on?" Bucky asked.  Steve looked at him.  "Sorry, the dream I had was really freaky."

"Okay." 

Bucky rested his head against Steve’s chest, burrowed his face right in and inhaled that familiar scent.  He only realized he was still squeezing Steve’s hand when Steve wiggled his fingers a bit and asked, “What was the dream you had?”

After doing his best to explain, which was basically that everyone was the same but different, Bucky felt himself start to relax and feel drowsy. 

“You don’t remember earlier,” Steve whispered, “what I asked you?”

“When?”

“Before we had sex.”

“No,” Bucky whispered back.

Steve was quiet for a minute.  Bucky knew he wasn’t asleep, though, because he wasn’t snoring.  Finally Steve took a deep breath and said, “I asked you if you were tired of me.”

His voice sounded so defeated that Bucky had to wrap his limbs around Steve and squeeze him hard.  “I hope I said no.”

Steve laughed.  “You said you’d never be tired of me.”

“Good,” said Bucky. 

“So you’re not?”

“Never.”

“I love you,” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s hair.

“I love you too,” said Bucky.


End file.
